Losing Herself
by Herochick007
Summary: At over a hundred, Ginny, who has alzheimers, remembers happier times over a fish dinner. Warning: Alzheimers, character death. You're going to want tissues.


**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter**

**This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**Insane Prompt Challenge: 703- writing style: Non-linear**

**Season Challenges Summer:**

**Days of the Year: ******21st August******: Senior Citizen's Day - Write about someone over 70 years old**

**Seasonal Challenges Summer: (word) Camping **

**Seasonal Challenges Flowers: Peony - (theme) Nostalgia **

**Specific House Challenge 2: Ginny Weasley**

**Writing Club August: **

**Disney Challenge: Tick-Tock Croc - Write about running out of time **

**Trope of the Month: Image: Grey hair and wrinkles\**

**Warning: Alzheimers, character death**

**Word Count: 717**

It was Friday. Ginny was certain of that. Fridays there was always fish. She didn't like fish, not really, but she pretended she did. The fish was on her plate along with something that resembled mac'n'cheese. It was yellow.

Yellow, her dress had been yellow when her and Harry had danced under the full moon three, no, two, however many years ago. There were so many memories with Harry. The first time she'd laid eyes on him. She hadn't really seen him, her brothers had. They'd written her about him, well, Ron had. Then he ran out on Harry and Hermione when they needed him. Then there was the car... it was blue, wasn't it?

Ginny blinked her eyes back to the fish. It was fried. It would have been better grilled over an open fire. She'd had it that way once, when she'd gone camping with Hermione... at least she thought it had been Hermione, it might have been Luna. No, it had to have been Hermione. Luna would never had had an open fire. There were too many creatures it would scare away. She wished she could have been able to see those creatures. Luna wrote her now, here at this place with its white walls and horrible sterile smell.

Ginny stabbed a noodle with her fork and studied it. Her eye sight was good, still good. Her hearing was still good, but she couldn't do things, not like she used to. There were words missing, faces... faces blurred. Blurry, the stone chamber, the giant snake. She heard about the aftermath. She was never the same, Harry was... Harry always found his way. She would see him soon. He'd already passed through the veil... hadn't he?

There had been a boy here... he claimed he knew her. He looked like Harry. The same hair, eyes. He'd had a girl she didn't know with him. She blinked trying to pull the name from the fog. The fog was thicker these days.

The noodle tasted bland and she missed her mum's homemade mac'n'cheese. She used fresh cheese from the goats. They hadn't had goats, chickens. They'd had chickens and eggs were a good currency. Could she use eggs to buy herself something that wasn't fish?

"Mrs. Potter, you need to eat your dinner, remember. Your son said he would be stopping by to see you tonight." She turned to the voice, but the man in healer robes had already left to bother someone else. She put a bite of fish in her mouth. It tasted like lake water.

Fred and George had thrown her in the lake. They said she should kiss the squid... she liked kissing boys so much. The squid was female. She'd kissed her anyway. That showed the twins. They were gone now too, weren't they? No, she'd seen Fred yesterday... no, wait, the day before! He was tall, red hair, yes. She'd seen Fred, but not George, where was he? Why had Fred come alone?

Another bite of fish, she shoved it in her mouth swallowing without tasting. She missed Harry. She hated being alone. She didn't know where she was anymore. She knew at some point, she'd known. They were wearing healers' robes. Part of St. Mungo's. She glanced around at the others eating. Grey hair, wrinkles, vacant expressions on some faces. Was hers as empty?

"Very good Mrs. Potter. Now, let's head back to your room," the healer was back. She nodded allowing him to wheel her.

She'd crashed into the ground, her hair landing in the mud, her helmet tumbling, tumbling... Never play Quidditch again. She could walk still, she'd lost her legs later... She didn't know how. She didn't remember how. She missed Harry, he used to scoop her up and carry her around. She smiled as the healer helped her into a nightdress. She wanted to be with Harry now. This wasn't her, this was a fog of grey clouds threatening to keep her lost forever.

Tucked safe into bed, she remembered her last birthday. She'd made it to a hundred! So many candles, a fire hazard. The kitchen had been full of people she'd started to forget. Ginny sighed, Harry was waiting for her. She closed her eyes, letting sleep claim her for the last time.


End file.
